


gonna drink the red from your pretty pink face

by notquiteaghost



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure Time - Freeform, preslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-10 22:03:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notquiteaghost/pseuds/notquiteaghost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras is secretly hooked on Adventure Time.</p><p>Grantaire finds out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	gonna drink the red from your pretty pink face

**Author's Note:**

> title is, of course, from 'i'm not your problem'.
> 
> this is... really not the fic that the summary suggests it will be? oops. also, i have no idea where the weirdo narrator-y POV came from. this is what happens when i write fic in under two hours.

It's a Friday, it's far too sunny for England in May, and everyone is gathered in the too-stuffy room above the Musain. This is normal.

Enjolras is going off on another rant about heteronormativity. This is also normal.

What happens next, however, isn't.

"-If we only get the rest of the world to acknowledge us, to admit that we exist, we'll be set. If they admit that we exist and we're people too and we deserve rights just as much as anyone else, then they can't, in good conscience, continue on like they are-"

"But that's never going to happen." Grantaire cuts in. This is still normal; Grantaire can never let one of Enjolras' heteronormativity rants pass without comment.

"Oh?" Enjolras asks. "Why not?"

"Because, like you said, they'd have to admit they're treating us like shit." Grantaire says, simply. "And, if they admit it, they'd have to stop. And they don't want to stop. So they're never going to admit it."

There's a pause, during which Enjolras and Grantaire stare- no, glare at each other, and the rest of the room holds its collective breath, and then Enjolras opens his mouth to retort.

Now, before he speaks, bear a few things in mind first. Enjolras has had one of the longest, most trying weeks known to man. He's had unlucky coincidence after homophobic stranger after stubborn politician, and he's just about had enough. He has, officially, reached the end of his tether.

Grantaire, of course, doesn't know this.

But he's about to.

"Why are you here, Grantaire?" Enjolras asks. This is, unfortunately, still pretty normal. But, normally, Enjolras leaves it at that. Today... "No, seriously. If what we're trying to do seems so pointless to you, if you're so convinced we're never going to change anything, why are you here? Why bother? Why not just stay at home and watch TV?" He pauses. Grantaire doesn't reply, too busy staring at Enjolras in some mix of shock and annoyance. "Do you like watching us fail? Is that it?"

"No!" Grantaire says, surprising even himself with his conviction. "No, of course not. God, no, I don't _want_ you to fail. I want you to prove me wrong."

It's Enjolras' turn to stare wordlessly. And this is where it stops even resembling normal, because normally, Enjolras doesn't pick a fight. Normally, Grantaire doesn't pick a fight right back.

"But, obviously, my presence isn't appreciated. Or, apparently, wanted." Grantaire continues, when Enjolras doesn't say anything. "Fine. I mean, I'm just your problem, aren't I? Nothing more than a thorn in your side. It's not like I have feelings, it's not like I _care_. I'm not even a person. Sorry I'm such an inconvenience to you. See if I darken your door again."

Normally, Grantaire doesn't stand up, the sound of his chair scraping across the floor far too loud in the shocked-silent room, and make his way towards the door.

Enjolras opens his mouth, raising one arm like he's anywhere near close enough to grab Grantaire, and then deflates slightly, seemingly giving up as he mutters, "I wear it all the time. As pyjamas."

Grantaire freezes.

"You did not just say what I thought you said." He says, voice low, as he turns round to glare at Enjolras. "No. You do not get to make obscure references, do you know how angry I am at you right now? You do not get to be dorky when I'm angry at you."

"...Um." Enjolras replies, eloquent as always.

"Was that your roundabout way of apologising?" Grantaire asks. "Because, if it was, I won't leave. I won't promise to be quiet, but I won't leave."

"I don't want you to leave." Enjolras says, quietly. He's staring at the floor, twisting his fingers together nervously; he's never looked so awkward before in his life. "You are appreciated, you are wanted. I do want you here. I just..."

"Suck at expressing emotion?"

"Yeah." He quirks his lips up in the world's smallest, most hesitant smile. "Sorry."

Grantaire sighs. "Apology accepted. We're continuing this later, but apology accepted." He moves back into the room and sits back down in his original seat, waving a hand as he adds, "Go on, continue telling me about how there'll be decent queer representation in mainstream media in our lifetime."

The tension in the room dissipates somewhat as Enjolras' smile widens and he picks up where he left off.

And, for the most part, things return to normal. The meeting goes down in Les Amis history as 'the day Enjolras and Grantaire finally got a clue (thanks to a kid's show, of all things)', and Enjolras and Grantaire's future arguments are much less biting and much more fond, and Jehan occasionally makes high-pitched noises and mutters about 'bubbline', but other than that, normal's about right.

**Author's Note:**

> i am [here](http://idoubtthereforeimightbe.tumblr.com) on tumblr.


End file.
